The Lies We Tell (The Four #1) - Becca Steele Page 0,52
time-wasting. Let’s get down to business,” Zayde commanded, and I nodded. This conversation was over, for now, and we had more important things to worry about.
Sinking into the empty chair at the desk, I picked up the manila folder I’d left there. The Four crowded around me, peering at the contents.
“Right. There’s not much to go on, but this is all I have.” I spread out the papers in front of me. “There’s the Alstone Holdings printouts—all generic information that you could easily find online.” I indicated the sheets that I’d placed together with a paperclip.
“Then, we have this photo of my mother. I don’t know if it means anything to any of you?” I handed the image to Zayde. It was a grainy, blown-up image in black and white. She was sitting at a table, partially obscured, and I could see a man’s hand but hadn’t been able to glean anything useful from it.
“Give it here.” Zayde handed the picture to Weston, and he wiggled the computer mouse next to me, the screens coming to life. He walked to the corner of the room and opened the lid of a scanner, then started tapping on the computer keyboard.
“Should be ready in a few.” I tuned out as he began talking about image processing software, staring blankly at the screen as various boxes and lines of writing flashed up and disappeared as quickly as they’d appeared.
“Done. The software should have enhanced the image for us. I’m hoping it makes it a bit clearer.” He clicked the mouse a few times, and the picture appeared on the huge computer monitor directly in front of me, much sharper and clearer than the original.
“Ooh, that’s impressive,” I told Weston, and he grinned proudly.
“Yep. I’m amazing.”
Turning back to study the screen, I noticed more details I’d missed originally.
“West, can you zoom in there?” I pointed, and he nodded. As he zoomed, I gasped. “I completely missed that before. Look.”
The hand of the man sitting at the table with my mother was far easier to see now.
The tip of his little finger was missing.
“Littlefinger.”
I glanced over at Weston and raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“You know, in Game of Thrones? That could be his code name. I mean, that’s what we can call him.”
“Littlefinger wasn’t called Littlefinger for that reason. All his fingers were intact,” Cassius argued.
“Whatever, still works.” Weston shrugged.
“Not really. What about what’s-his-name? Theon? He had his dick cut off.”
“A dick is not the same as a finger.”
“Didn’t say it was, did I?”
“Please. Can we just get back to the task?” I begged, drumming my fingers on the table. “Let’s agree to call him Littlefinger for now; since West said it, it’s kind of stuck in my head.”
“Fine. I’m picking the next code name, then,” Cassius muttered.
Seriously. I rolled my eyes.
“Anyway. If you’ve finished pretending you’re James Bond or whatever, assigning code names to people. Does anything about this picture mean anything?”
Caiden moved closer to the screen, leaning his arm on the back of my chair. I shivered as it brushed along the back of my neck. “Something about this place rings a bell. What’s that symbol there? Zoom in.” We watched as the blurry shape on the window at the back of the picture grew bigger, but it was difficult to make it out.
“It almost reminds me of a crown or something,” I mused, squinting at it.
“That’s it! You genius!” Caiden fist pumped the air, his voice triumphant. I was so shocked by the unexpected compliment I froze, then smiled to myself. Bet he hadn’t meant to compliment me.
“The Crown and Anchor?” Zayde spoke.
“Yeah, that’s it. The one in Highnam. West?”
“Already on it.” The screen next to the one we were looking at lit up, and Weston began typing.
“Highnam?” I murmured to Caiden.
“Yeah.” He leaned a little closer to me. “A town about half an hour away. There’s not much there, but there’s a hotel.”
“Oh.” I sat, watching as Weston pulled up the website.
“No pictures of the interior, but look. That’s the same symbol.”
Caiden’s finger brushed against the strands of my hair and moved to touch the back of my neck. I hardly dared to breathe.
“Let’s start a list,” Weston suggested. “First item—check out the hotel.”
“We need to be careful not to be spotted. We don’t want anyone getting suspicious.” Caiden’s voice was firm. He drew tiny, slow circles on the back of my neck with his finger. Goosebumps erupted all down my arms, and my breath hitched.